A/N: Hello, it's been a while, I would have uploaded this sooner but I was considering if I would continue the series, I dunno, but, I'll atleast give to you all, or those that do read, the third installment of Destiny Beyond. The House of Wolves will begin soon, but first, a collection of OVAs I created that happen in between Book 2 and 3. Enjoy, Guardians.
OVA 2 - Memory of the Fall
[Silvis' POV]
Centuries ago...
I was there when our pride, honor, and freedom was lost to us, when our people lost themselves in crude, misinterpretations of those three words never needed context. Skies turned black and cursed with strange energies, the land scorched and tinged red overtime. The fires that overtook the lands, once vibrant and beautiful, with harsh oranges and toxic smog.
Running, a mere Dreg who held no real significance compared to those that remained, those that fought tooth and claw against the oppressing cry and laughter of hordes brood in darkness, seeded for conquering worlds with ease, razing them to oblivion.
Kings stood tall, protecting children as they fled, hiding behind their translucent cloaks. Exile, while small, guided and ensured all who remained did not scatter or jeopardize the safety of our kin, my banner, Devils, did the same next to Scar, the burn, crackle, and snap of their rifles and scorch of shrapnel tore ribbons across the chitin monstrosities that now invaded the ports, threatening us constantly.
Robed creatures flew overhead, gunned down by skiffs before their unnatural powers could so much as pluck a hair. For me, I should be dead, there was no way my meager pistol that had never once tasted combat should have stood up to the might of such a horrific creature, its face overtaken by a grotesque optical nerve, muscles bulged and jutted against the chitin and skin. So how was I alive?
"Up, little one, this is no place to fall!" I hardly believed it myself. The royal purple flapped in the updraft of the monster's crumbling body, bright eyes honed solely on me with a hand outstretched to my own before the vacant place the Great Machine was occupied. His voice was rushed but with rising courage in a bleak calamity
His cape almost wrapped protectively around my shaken frame as his cutlasses swished and danced across the street, weaving through rows of the mindless drones of our enemy, some twitching with a distorted, etheral form, even with their erratic movements his blade cut true, ribbons of chitin and wispy energy dispersing around us.
Instinctively, I leveled my pistol under his lower right, the bolt round piercing one of the creature's forehead's like paste before it could lunge for the paragon of our people, one that just being near took away my fear as quickly as it arrived.
"I thank you, but you must leave, join your House, go!" His arm commanded me onward, but gratitude evident in his gaze as the shadows from afar grew, but before I could run, a light yet defining weapon was placed between my claws, a large hand closing them around the worn handle
A blade, silver but stained and burnt, inscribed with markings of all Houses, and a fabric of Stone tied to below my palm. "You will need more than your pistol for what is to come," He stated calmly, plucking one of our fallen's blades, testing it with a quick flick and sense of pride in the craft. "Go now, little one, protect your brethren's lives as you have mine!"
I stared hopefully at the cutlass, unable to understand why I was the one to carry such a relic, a meager Dreg among many Archons and Kells. To carry a weapon of Chelchis himself, had the events of today never unfolded, I might have jumped for joy. Or if not for a dark visage that loomed over the armada above, unlike that which I've witnessed arrived to our world, this... feeling, I saw the Kell before me waver little, but his head poised to meet the gargantuan vessel in the sky.
"Go now, I shall guard the line, keep faith in yourself, young one," He took a step forward, a pair of dark wings beating to the distortion of space around the blackness that twisted the skies, like an abyss that stared back, shallow and icy, whispering in my ears like a strangled siren's song, alluring if I were alone
The last I ever heard that day was a single, deafening line from the maw of the creature that amassed a legion behind him. 'Give your will... to me'.
Present Day...
My eyes crept open to the howl of this world's wind, a strange sense of sorrow washing over me as it had numerous times when I thought of our home, of the one that saved me long ago. Like many times, my hands clutched his blade, having taken care of it and hidden it away from my sometimes savage kin.
I could still feel the warmth of his hand on mine, despite himself worn and past the point of defeat, he remained true to the Great Machine, even as if abandoned us. Many of our Houses wished for vengeance, a culling of the 'Light-Bearers' and their 'Last City' for taking the Great Machine from us, for damning our home to the fury of the Whirlwind.
Sitting here, atop a dead ship, a dead tomb of thousands, my eyes watched the horizon did into an enriching orange and gold, the sun basking me a faint warmth as I listened to the small skirmishes and the creak of metal. Many Light-Bearers passed this place, many encounter the very monsters that took our home, battling my kin and the Kings as we do day in and day out.
Ruins of a world ravaged as ours, once an age of innovation and wonder like ours, but the Great Machine's shadow swallowed it whole, but like us, humanity survived, cultivated beneath its slumbering form, to think the Great Machine could sleep, now that was somewhat endearing to know.
Decades ago, I would have followed my kin with their ideologies of reprisal to prove ourselves to the Great Machine, which led to many blood feuds that may never truly heal. But when I see what has happened to this world, the very system, over the years I watched and obeyed, observing Kells' greed, the countless Dockings of loyal or weak kin, I grew sick, I wanted nothing more than to return to a time when things weren't so... savage.
'Honour'? That is not us. We are pirates, scavengers, animals in humanity's eyes. 'Fallen', there is no better name, and 'Devils' is what we've become. The closest our unity became was for the City's bloodshed and destruction, the Wolves could have very well have turned history another way. When I wear my colors, I feel only shame in what we've become, I keep quiet, but that is as shamefully as doing nothing at all.
Then I remembered, droning out the mutterings of the Wolf Kell's underling, Skolas back then, and the cries from the Dockings and challenges, I remember who we never forsake, the one who gifted me with his final praise of acknowledgment where no other has given me in so very long. Chelchis, in his tragic assault to hold back the darkness, remained true not to the Great Machine, but to a people, once proud and free.
When those parasites attacked our lair, three of those Light-Bearers fought with us, protected our own as equals, my reluctance back then has turned to questions of why, and now, to acknowledgment, as Chelchis once held for me, a Dreg now high-ranking Vandal in the discord that ensued after Sepiks fell, irony filled my mind with a tinge of humor as I discovered it was the same three Light-Bearers that worked with us that day.
I have seen them, the girl led them across the rusted remains of this airfield many times, times I wonder why I never took the shot, maybe I knew that little light that floated with them would rectify my success, or perhaps it was due to their selflessness that brought my memories of my final days on our home back to light.
There are days I wished to go back, to see if our world flourished from the ashes of war and bloodshed, would I find its beautiful landscape made anew, or only an empty husk of the world it once was? Both thoughts scared me, for who we are now may take that beauty for granted.
But maybe, sitting here with this sword in my hands, the memories and teachings I had fixed into my mind where others warred and bickered over the ether that once ran free like us, maybe things could change. Murmurs around our lair of that day have grown, some lowly Dregs our remaining higher-ups have no need to listen to speak of them as though warriors of our own rose to meet the oppressing monsters that once took our home from us.
I too have felt it, maybe someday, past all the decades of bitterness between us and humanity, a foolish future where we stand before the Great Machine, weapons drew not to our throats, but to that of the Machine's shadow, I will never forget it, of all the ships I saw light up our world, one simply watched us, observing our actions like pieces of a game.
A foolish dream, but one I will chase with the same confidence that saved me so long ago.
OVA 3 - Tit for Tat
[Waking Ruins | Ishtar Sink | Venus]
The icy-blue banners that dotted the reclusive base was once a thriving stronghold of the House of Winter, their numbers strong and the Vex far from control, almost no one within the Tower knew of this Golden Age engineer docking bay, those that did never made any official statement of its need to be cleared.
The banners were torn or burning in smokey piles of amethyst flames, what remained of Fallen left disfigured or atomized like the large, spherical holes that riddled the walls and doors. Supplies thrown into fires or ravaged, strewn across the ground. Weapons lay next to shadows of Fallen, their ashes scorched into the walls and floors.
Nothing made a sound, say the flicker of rusted spotlights or hum of a machine. There was metal clanking slowly, gently across the battlefield constricted into a graveyard, the malicious onslaught would make a Guardian shiver. A silver trenchcoat swayed with the person's footsteps, helmet analyzing the corpses bleeding with ether, large cavities in their stomachs, some with their heads reduced to mush.
A Ghost bobbed next to the person, silent, observant of its Guardian and his constant critical analysis of the Fallen tech, unsatisfied with the lack of information provided, his efforts wasted, but his pleasure in the carnage satiated.
How far would you go for vengeance? Would you give in to your exhausted self? Would is consume you, drive your motives and actions every day? Will the words of those around you sway your actions?
What will you do when the road you've carved with bloodied hands reach a scarlet end? Would you disappear, move on, become... obsessed? Paranoid of an end that may never come? It is a horrid, twisted amalgamation so many are tempted to fall into.
Me? Well, that line blurs, but my motive is simple as the instigation began...
[Earth | Twilight Gap]
Years Ago...
The wind screamed with lead and balefire of spark grenades scorching the earth. Rubble rained down upon several Guardians nestled into a battle-torn trench, Morbin diving back with them as he swung the lever back, the barrel resting on a Dreg's head as blood and ether showered the pavement behind the jagged teeth of disturbed concrete now acting as a barricade.
Beside him, a Hunter's body ceased its firey visage as she ducked away from the many bullets that now mutilated the walls, she grunted under the number of wounds in her armor, her ghost appearing as Morbin meticulously loaded his shotgun, eyes narrowed down at the gun's chamber.
"They got us cornered here, great!" The Hunter scoffed to herself, but the notion of fatigue was in the air around them
The Fallen continued their advance, grinding down bullets and Guardians slowly, edging closer to the trench. The pings and whines of bullets and bolts never-ceasing against the stone. This was a mere battle of attrition against forces unlike any offensive the Fallen had devised in the past, even as they gunned them down by the dozens, twice as many took their place.
But there was an opportunity. Past Vandals and Dregs, stood one of their Kells, and while the hellfire and darkness of the skies shrouded the banner, there was no mistaking the size and scale of this Fallen's might compared to its own, and the chance Morbin had been waiting for.
"You can't be serious? It's a Kell, a Walker, sure, but a Kell's suicide," His ghost, Deus argued over the ludicrous idea of even so much as confronting a Kell alone, but given the shape, those around him were in, and with Shaxx leading the charge on another front, Morbin had to make his own play, to turn a tide the rest were struggling to bear. "Atleast get Ana to back you up!"
Morbin rolled his eyes, "Oi, Hunter," His gruff reply tore her eyes away from a Vandal pinging wire rounds through the concrete. "Be my fodder and get me to that Kell." To emphasize he pointed to the shadow that looked too fixed on the corpses, rifling through their weapons for itself
"You're crazy, right?" She noted the cold stare in his otherwise vibrant eyes. With a shrug, she raised her rifle. "Alright, don't blow a bulb," Clearing her throat she shoved a Titan. "Come on, let's clear the way through these slags!"
A chorus of warcries and the battle's already intense atmosphere exploded, Morbin shuffled away from the fires, his back pressed to a wall, muscles tensed as his body glowed, exciting his own metallic cry. "That great big ball in the sky doesn't belong to them, as we have every right to fight for it to!"
Through the abraded concrete his body shattered it all, body radiating lilac as arc and lead ricocheted off his armor, each thundering step quaked and splintered the earth, Morbin became what many a Titan would gawk at, a Warlock of indomitable might steamrolled through the gunfire, his fists balled up and taut. The rails of arc burrowed into his thick plating, and yet he persisted.
The carpet-bombing that cratered the masses tore open to his flanks, Morbin slammed his fists through Dregs without woe, the crackling of his Light and his sheer ferocity of the Void ruptured the lines, purples overtook orange, the returning fire favored him as Guardians took hold of the scattering confusion, all while his eyes remained on his gambit, the very Kell that sauntered into a building.
With untamed light balled between his fingers Morbin sunk a hand through a Captain's shield, shattering it momentarily for his fingers to plunge into the jagged maw, and the sickening crunch of bone under the Exo's fist that imbedded the Fallen's skull into the ground, blood tainting his white cloth amethyst with a glossy glow of lavender.
Lifting his right, the very cosmos conjured in his hand as Dregs and Vandals scurried away, but it was already wasted energy, the sheer force of the blast split the Nova several times, the orbs tearing apart the Fallen lines, scattering what remained of their phalanx as Guardians took arms against those that remained.
"Inside, the Kell's trying to flee," Deus informed his rampant state, and after grabbing a Vandal by the face he tore it from the ground, lobbing the creature like one of Shaxx's autonomous proxies. With their front secured and ground regained, Morbin slid to a walk, arm swinging out Judgment in-hand against the Kell that stood mere feet from his own
"End of the line," He snarled, swinging the lever as he aimed for the Kell
That was his mistake. A plume of smoke, dirt, and fire tore at his feet, throwing the Exo across the warehouse and through rusted remains of racks, the clattering drawing the attention of the Kell, a faint flicker of amusement in his eyes. Deus appeared as the Kell approach, not daring to fire at the immortal thing as it brought the foolish Warlock to his knees again.
With a grunt, Morbin locked his jaw in place in time for a fist to collide with his own, the two locked under a shriek of metal. Unwavered and without a second to hesitate he drew Judgment back from under his boot, leveling the barrel to sit against his mechanical arm, with a single slug tore ribbons of wire and scrap, the Kell roared, crashing through the very racks layered in rust.
A single flick and another pellet splintered steel and tore into the Kell's armor, the very muzzle designed for medium ranges, funneling all his authority into a condensed trace of iron and fire. Another click and the Kell brought forth a weapon or rarity that carried the smoldering breath of a dragon, unleashing a blast that roared from its casing, lighting the room in a scorching blaze.
Waft in flames the Fallen stood and watched as the Warlock, still burning, strode from the fires without remorse, a very hellspawn with a fistful of Void Light, and Judgement in-hand. But it did not last, for a voice cried out between this Kell's clutches, eye in a frenzy.
"M-Morbin, help!" Deus cried out desperately trying to pry himself from the Kell's cold, dead fingers, a boisterous cackle pounding in the Exo's ears. Without rhyme or reason, Morbin tore across the building, flaming body basked in radiant purple, his fist outstretched to the Ghost in peril over his own ignorance, his very nature derailed any sense of safety for the companion by his side
"No, give him back!" Morbin's voice thundered
Buckshot and the pull of space did little to deter the Kell, his claws leveled the burning maw of his cannon, pressing flames and fury down onto the Warlock's unwavering pursuit. The mere setback didn't force Morbin to waver in his desperate pursuit of the little sprite, his anguish turning to a fear of failure, of guilt, his very hand missing the retreating Kell by a painstaking inch as the gunfire raged into nothing shortly after.
The last thing his static gaze pressed to was the sight of a skiff marked by that of a banner, unlike the Devils glossy red, Kings' striking gold, or Winter's smooth blue.
Present Day...
Morbin stood at the edge of the cliffs, eyes catching the sight of the Vault of Glass through the rising smoke, the once ancient docking bay now all aglow and burning between the wild forests of Venus. The acidic rain dampening the fires that quickly grew out of control in the valley below.
He didn't care, eyes watching the Winter's newest stronghold go up in smoke, their Kell would notice the smoke too, and that thought alone, the very idea of the look of anger or even fear gave Morbin a crude smile on his metal lips.
"Call me obsessive, but I'll make them pay," Morbin turned on a heel, trudging through the grass with Deus in-tow, his eye glancing to the ruined base and his Guardian once more, seeing his eyes light up a sharp crimson
OVA 4 - Crossing of the Damned
[Earth | Last City | Underground]
It was dark, incredibly so for the underground, a place where all the not-so-friendly people, Guardians, and runaways hide. Lit by Fallen lamps jammed crudely into corners and hung from ropes in the pipes above going to who knows where; It was damp at times, but often cozy for the wayward traveler under the same spherical object sharing the name. Many bet it was a haven below a haven, a second wind if things ever went south for the City. Everyone knew it was there, but only the brave venture into its forsaken depths still touched by the Dark Ages.
One particular Hunter sat alone, in a box room alone surrounded by the pleasant company of old shipments and 'subjective' items of interest. She was sat by a round table, cards lay abandoned before the glare of a lantern, her cards resting face-up, her knife etched into the wood while her finger mindlessly tapped away, ears flicking to each and every knock or out of sync tap in the shadows.
"Look, I'll be straight with you, I. Don't. Know. Anything." Dimitri worded ever-so confidently but her voice was slipping, her nerves tripped. Again, silence, and she sighed. "If I knew something then you'd-"
"Where is he?" Three words shot through her throat, and an inch feeling crept up her right hand, she could still feel the life that ghost held as it... slipped away, shattered and broke skin, the scent of copper overpowering nature
Choking down a lump she replied coldly. "...He's dead." It was uncertain, but without a ghost, without the Light, no one could survive that... dark realm
"Did you use it?" And another question, her heart caved with fear, or something akin to having a barrel poking at her crown, the subtle taut of a finger to the trigger, hammer cocking back with a vicious snap
"...If I did, you'd have already killed me," Dimitri raised her hardened eyes to the last place she heard the voice. "Am I wrong?" She did use it, in the heat of the moment, a second of blind rage gave her a spark to end that ghost's life, and in turn, it's Guardian
"Harnessin' control, the ability to sacrifice yourself for innocent lives, that is what I intend to protect, it has always been a way to ensure events never repeat, you would know, you were one of them." Longer, more pronounced in his meaning, Dimitri let her hold on the edge of the table slip. Countless matches never brought this side of her out, but a single look would kill her
"You know someone's gonna find out about us, about me," Again, her hand met her clueless eyes. "What then? Can you honestly say I'll still be here?"
"Don't know, that somethin' you'll have to find out yourself, kid." Honest and quick to reply, it was never often Dimitri had a chat leaving her conflicted for so long. "He was slippin', don't matter the reason, you did it not because you were wronged but 'cause what he did was wrong, there's a world of difference there, kid. One last step and I'd have been there, someone had to be."
"Oh, my hero," She drawled, then heard the faint footsteps take off, leaving her alone to see the tail-end of a cape vanish, a brass gun attached to the hip.
For a while she sat there, alone in the darkness, the brief light of her ghost appearing with a solemn stare as she pulled out a flask from her pouch, taking atleast half the contents to rocket her senses, a buzz and burn traveling down her throat as she slumped by the cards. "I people wonder why I have a drinking problem,"
To Be Continued...
A sneak peek at what is to come in Book 3 with OVA 2 detailing the events of the Fallen's 'Collapse' from the views of the brief ally from the House of Devils, Silvis. OVA 3 offers some background on Morbin during the Battle of Twilight Gap with Ana Bray cameo again. OVA 4 Dimitri meeting with someone who knows of her brief time with the Shadows of Yor. I hope you enjoyed, appreciate the support, and seeya next time Guardians!